


Lucid Dreaming

by phantasmer



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Childhood Friends, Dream Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Pining, Symbolism, Time Skips, slowburn, tags will be updated with the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasmer/pseuds/phantasmer
Summary: Nick finds himself enamored with a boy he meets in a dream one day.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small cw // derealization

July 25, 2013

Nick didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he knew that when it finally came, it was late; or late at least, for a 12 year old. The moon was high above the sky, and the smallest beam of light shone in through his window shades which were pulled down, but crooked at the bottom, making it impossible to keep everything that occurred in the night outside. Not that he would be able to hear much of the crickets chirping anyways, or of the lonesome cars passing through his street every so often, disturbing nature and shining their headlights to mix within the natural starlight. He wouldn’t hear any of it over the clunky pair of headphones bouncing sound in and around his ears, ones that he had gotten for Christmas the year prior.

He was fighting to keep his consciousness, clicking absentmindedly on his computer mouse, playing some sort of old MMORPG, and his eyelids became heavy and weighed with exhaustion, a losing battle. The light emanating from his computer was not enough to keep him awake, in fact, the blue light only made his body ache more for a bed where he could shut his eyes and brain off for a few hours, relieved from the pressure that the screen had been imprinting on his eyes.

Nick didn’t move to his bed that night, though, merely thinking of relocating was too exhausting-- he fell asleep with his head gently cradled by his arms, peaceful, despite the uncomfortable position.

  
  


Nick’s presence in the dream came immediately. He did not slowly come to, in the dream land, as though he were waking up in the morning. He manifested quickly, simply appearing as though he had been there the whole time, leaving no room for disorientation for the most part.

His sight was hazy, in the way that it would be if it had not quite adjusted to the dim lighting in an area. It made his surroundings blurry and unrecognizable, and kept him from full lucidity-- though he could comprehend the idea that he was in a dream, placing his surroundings was too huge of a task for his currently processing brain to comprehend. That haze never cleared though, and it came to his attention that his eyesight may not be the thing in question. He soon noticed there was a thick fog for however far one could see outward, compelling Nick to move forward and find out what lay further beyond it.

He hadn’t realized he had been standing on concrete, until his legs moved forward and the texture beneath his feet changed into the uneven feeling of wood chips, and it was only then that his surroundings had become discernible. He was in a playground-- the kind he would be taken to occupy when he was younger than he was now. Swings hung from a set, being pushed to and fro by the ghost of a wind that Nick couldn’t feel, but aside from that, the park was still and quiet. There were no children laughing and running around, playing tag and pushing themselves down the old metal slide, or maneuvering from bar to bar on the monkey bars. He glanced down, to reassure himself that his body was still there and intact, fearing some kind of bodily horror when he examined himself, but found it all there; and when he slowly picked his gaze up to examine his surroundings again, he noticed one more thing-- the lightly faded silhouette of a boy sat on a park bench, shrouded in the fog. He swore a second ago that corner of the park had been empty, but in the blink of an eye he found himself no longer alone.

He felt steadier now in the presence of another human, and it seemed like he’d finally woken up fully, in this dream. The fog hadn’t cleared, but he could see better, he could comprehend his surroundings, even if he had never seen this playground in his life, nor this boy. When a person knows they’re dreaming, it is not usually their first instinct to ask any deep and pressing questions of themselves.

Still, clinging onto that secure feeling, he made his way closer to the boy, suddenly entranced, as though he were a siren calling to him. The interpretation of him as some type of mythical creature had to be incorrect of course-- all he was doing was swinging his legs idly on the bench, staring at a small flock of pigeons that hovered and bobbed their heads without rhythm near his feet. As Nick approached nearer, he deduced that this person he had never seen before in his life, was about the same age as him. Maybe a bit older, by the way his limbs were stretched out longer in a way that made Nick certain he’d be taller than him if they stood side by side.

Soon he was too close for the other to simply continue ignoring, by blocking out of his field of view. Their gazes met and held as neither of them felt particularly compelled enough to look away from the other. Nick searched and found curiosity in the eyes that assessed him, which reassured him slightly, that he was not of any nuisance to the projection of a boy he was seeing.

The other turned first, breaking eye contact with a flush, and there was a brief wash of embarrassment on the face of the dream-boy, which Nick, perhaps boldly, did not return. Maybe if this were real life, he would feel some ounce of shame for staring so blatantly, but he could not measure the weight of any possible consequences here, when he knew he would be waking up a few minutes from now.

Light blond hair trimmed short, just a tad darker towards the roots, and freckles peppering his nose and just under his eyes, which were a light green-grey color. Certain surfaces of his face were tinted light pink, the evident result of a sunburn recently gifted by the hot July sun. No, Nick had never seen this person in his life, he was certain of it. He would have remembered.

“… what?” Nick asked, only just realizing dream-boy was speaking, and blinked, becoming alert again. His voice had briefly become foggy, blurring into the background haze, and finally, he found himself with a bit of remorse. He pulled his lingering gaze away, deciding instead that he would prefer sitting next to the boy. And so he did, setting himself down with a small huff a few inches away and startling a few of the pigeons away in the process.

“This is a weird dream,” he reiterated, and Nick breathed out a deep sigh as he sunk deeper into the bench.

“You’re telling me,” He felt a gaze on him, as if finally, now that Nick was looking away, he could observe him with that same childish curiosity from a few moments ago-- it didn’t bother him that much, and if it did, he’d be a hypocrite. It was just a dream anyways. The reason why he was beginning to get so hung up on each little detail was absolutely lost to him. “It's like-- it's like it's real or something. Or not real. I’ve never known I was dreaming before, so, so, I don’t know how to describe it, like, I feel awake but not--” he was cut off from his gentle rambling, as a voice sounded from the other.

“Uh… huh,” dream-boy said, with an expression of sheer suspicion, one that accused Nick of being some kind of criminal in hiding, and doing an awful job of it at that, like he’d just tripped and exposed every weapon in his arsenal. He wasn’t prepared to deal with the accusatory stare and chose to shove his confusion down and ignore it. He fell quiet after that.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them, where the only sound was once again the quiet creaking of the swingset swaying. Finally, he echoed the statement that had started their brief conversation, his voice a quiet mumble.

“This is such a weird dream,” he echoed, and got an almost immediate response, not having noticed out of the corner of his eye how dream-boy’s face had lightened just a bit, losing its skepticism.

“And it's kind of boring, too” at that, Nick sat up suddenly, whipping his head over to him, his mouth opening to protest. The other’s face fit the description, dripping with apathy. Before he could make any witty retort, though, dream-boy began to snicker quietly, before an uncontained laugh erupted from him; a reaction to the sudden change in expression.

“I- I can’t believe you just said that. I’ve been here for 5 minutes and I’m already being made fun of. Rude,” Nick pouted.

“It wasn’t really an insult, more like constructive criticism,” The other continued, as Nick furrowed his brow, barely aware of what that phrase meant. “and really? I’m the rude one? You’re the one who's been staring at me for hours” his tone was lighthearted, and though it reassured him, Nick continued holding the offended face, surprised he had been caught despite having been blatantly obvious. Rules present in the real world weren’t supposed to be present when a person sleeps. Nick supposed his weird as hell dreams were the sole exception.

“Hours? I stared for barely half a second” it seemed they were both the type to exaggerate their point to further their claims, “you’re full of it, you’re so full of it.”

That comment earned dream-boy a playful shove, and Nick couldn’t help but show the smile he had been repressing on his lips, as the blond put minimal effort into fighting back, pushing him back with just a little bit of force.

The contact almost shocked him, and he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting. To phase through dream-boy as if he were a ghost? He wasn’t translucent, or anything, and although the setting they were in was comparable to that of a paranormal story (what with the ominous and empty playground), the warmth and color of the other boy’s face reassured him otherwise. And considering the small bump of their shoulders didn’t result in the other fading away into part of the ever present fog, it seemed unlikely that this was a ghost. Although those rules didn’t really need to apply within the sleeping realm, he supposed.

He had definitely just thought all of that far too soon.

Still hovering his hand just above dream-boy’s shoulder, it was a matter of seconds before Nick noticed that the kid was beginning to literally  _ dissipate into thin air. _ It began in his limbs, his hands and legs beginning to fade into the backdrop that they were a part of, and the small smile Nick wore began to turn into an expression of horror, eyes bulging out of his head, as this person who he had just began to become acquainted with sat disappearing in front of his wide eyes.

Dream-boy didn’t even seem to notice, and when they met eyes again, his expression was bemused, curious, and Nick had no time to return the energy of the gaze even remotely as he sat flabbergasted, no time or energy to answer as he was asked, “Wh- Is there something on my face? What’s wrong?” Dream-boy peered around to see if the gaze was fixed on something other than his face, wondering if Nick had seen a poltergeist of some sort.

Responding was far from the first thing on his mind, he could only think of how it was as if he had willed this into existence, the disappearance of someone who should, by all means, mean as little to him as any other stranger passing him by, or even less so. All he knew was to reach out and attempt to grab hold as the last parts of him faded away, leaving him entirely alone. The bench was empty.

It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did. It was a dream, it was all a dream, he repeated to himself within the confines of his head. He was blatantly aware of this-- he had breathed in that fact earlier, and it had given him vitality and left him without the reserved anxiety that usually boiled deep and silenced him around others. Even if he hadn’t been made aware of the fact that he was dreaming, the two of them had only interacted together for all of, what, three and a half minutes? Much of which was made up of awkward staring on his end and a just-as-awkward silence that slunk around in between pauses in their sentences. And yet, it still felt as though, somehow, he had caused the disappearance of dream-boy, like he was the one that plunged the knife through his back and caused him to disappear into the mist.

The pigeons joined together again in communion around his feet, fluttering their wings and breaking the dense silence, a break that Nick was grateful for. He stilled and waited.

Maybe dream-boy would come back and ease his guilt.

Hours seemed to pass in the dreamland as he waited senselessly for anything to happen, and he began to agree with the statement said before. This  _ was _ a boring dream to be in. At this point, even a disruption out of his worst nightmares might be welcome to at least make things a little bit more interesting. He had no intention to explore deeper into the fog, in case he became lost and separated from the precious park bench he had made into his temporary home. 

At nine in the morning, Nick was finally awoken by an ocean of sunlight pouring through his crooked-at-the-bottom shades. Mourning doves sang to each other calmly and sweetly, as he attempted to pry his eyes open, heavy and coated with copious amounts of sleep. His shoulders and back ached, as a result of remaining seated in the same place of which he had let himself fall asleep the night before-- right on his desk, hunched over, head being hugged by his arms, which he brought out to stretch in an attempt to correct the several hours of poor posture which his spine had endured.

Having just been present there, the dream felt fresh in his mind, aside from one important detail. For the life of him, no matter how hard he urged his brain, he couldn’t remember the face of the dream-boy, he realized. The playground, the scenery, the birds; they were all memorable. He remembered what felt like several hours of sitting stagnant in one place, like a dog waiting for his owner to come home. He even memorized the short lived conversation he had shared during the beginning of the dream. But whenever he tried to pull a face to his mind, a blank was drawn in his head.

It must not have been important enough, he resolved, as he went about his duties as a 12 year old. It was just a weird one off dream that was also, coincidentally, vivid and life-like, Later on in the evening, Nick made a point to look online “how to wake yourself up when you’re having a nightmare.” God forbid he have to suffer another five passing hours on a park bench alone. He might go insane.

Truthfully, he felt that the chances of this type of thing happening were overwhelmingly slim. Everyone had at least one weird dream that they could look back on and talk about, and he decided simply that this would be his. An ominous story to tell over dinner, or maybe he’d tell his friends all about it when they all arrived together at school after the summer break, if he hadn’t forgotten about it by then; and considering just how unimportant the dream seemed, he  _ definitely  _ wouldn’t be remembering.

July 26, 2013

That night, when Nick finally fell asleep again, he was transported back to the playground. On the bench sat his dream-boy.

The first emotion that hit him was relief. Relief that whatever force that had taken the boy the night before had not taken him forever. Relief in the form of ease, as he was finally able to recall what his face looked like, as he had so strangely forgotten it, of all the forgettable things that had occurred in his dream the night before. It released tension that had coiled in his brain. The face was no longer new to him, it felt familiar, and he wondered to himself how he could have ever forgotten it.

The next was frustration, unwarranted of course, but an irrational line of thought coursed through his brain, convincing him, somehow, that all of this, the world within his subconscious mind was naught but some kind of an elaborate prank. Maybe one of his sisters had been putting something in his food that would make him delirious enough to have this dream not once, but twice. That thought vanished quickly, though, as surely neither of them were malicious enough, (or sneaky enough, he added) to tamper with that type of matter. Either way, the recurring manner of the dream was confusing, and things that he didn’t understand were frustrating no matter how they came about.

He settled for a mixture of both feelings, and that indecisiveness knit his brows together as he made his way over again to dream-boy. A sense of recall washed over him; he had taken this same route of approachment the night before, taking the same steps towards the same person sitting in the same position as he was the night before, staring rather boredly at the pigeons.

He looked up sooner though, this time around, not waiting as long as the night before. Eyes locking, Nick felt, for no reason other than nerves, like a deer caught in headlights. The strong emotion he felt before was replaced with meekness. Dream-boy patted the empty space on the bench next to him, a movement that Nick had almost missed, but one that lured him in nonetheless.

This time, he took his seat on the bench a few inches further away than he had yesterday. There was a new type of fragility surrounding the dream world tonight, different from yesterday when it was new and more unfamiliar. He felt a lingering concern that if he got too near to the other that he would disappear-- and he didn’t want that tonight. Tonight, he wanted to know more, and wanted to ask questions. When he sat, the pigeons stirred at his feet and some flew away, just like the last time.

Part of him had expected Dream-boy to speak first, like last time, but as the silence between them stretched long and heavy, he felt compelled to break it himself. It would be an absolute shame if he somehow disappeared again, without them even speaking.

“So-- Do you have a name?” He asked, rather lamely, he realized, and when they made eye-contact again, dream-boy bore an expression of bemusement. What an annoying face, Nick thought. The other looked upwards at the sky, closing his eyes and humming quietly, seeming to genuinely consider the question before coming to a simple conclusion.

“No,” was his equally lame response.

Back came Nick’s confidence from the night prior-- and though he refused to do something as bold as to reach out and get closer to contact, he did let some of that irritation spread into his face. “Wh- No? Why’d it take you so long to say that?” he responded with disbelief, “I should have- I should have asked  _ what _ your name was, not if you had one. You have a name.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Everyone has a name.”

“Okay, well I don’t. I wouldn’t want to tell you, even if I did.”

Nick huffed, suddenly feeling as though he were speaking with the Cheshire Cat, dodging around the question playfully and with ease. It made him aware again of the fact that this was a dream. Anything and everything could be true within a dream, so it could simply be that the boy sitting next to him truly didn’t have a name to take ownership of.

At the same time, he wanted so strongly to call him by something, that he wished he could conjure a title for him out of thin air. He had already been calling him “dream-boy” in his head, for the brief time that he had known him. It didn’t roll off the tongue particularly easily, but it was easy to resort to, considering he had no other options.

He could shorten it to just “Dream.”

That would work, even if it was a bit silly and uninspired. Nick was already beginning to think of him as some kind of full manifestation of the dream world he had been whisked away into twice now. 

“Well I’d tell you my name, if you asked,” Nick responded, some attempt to compromise, and that seemed to pique Dream’s curiosity. He caught a glimpse of that curious expression that would occasionally shine through.

“Oh really,” Nick wanted to hold that inquisitorial gaze, keep it there. It felt nice knowing that there was something wanted of him that was keeping the attention of the other, whose expression he’d seen before dripping with indifference-- even if it was something as simple as a name. It felt important, his name, and expensive as an offering of gems or riches. If this were a game, he would be inclined to feel like he was winning. Dream continued, “What is it then?”

“Well you have to tell me your name first then”

“Then you lied!”

“Huh?”

“You said,” He attempted to address the confusion, “You said you’d tell me your name if I asked. So I did, but you wanted something in return.”

“I never said it’d be free,”

“It’s just a name, it’s not like it’s- it’s- a service-” The way he spoke was so human and natural, Nick had to argue with himself once again whether or not he was some sort of mythical figment of his imagination or something more. It didn’t let him forget, though.

“Well if it’s not, then tell me yours.” He didn’t back down from his position.

Dream didn’t respond for a moment, and while he seemed to think up a response Nick took a moment to examine his surroundings, which he had been distracted from.

Nothing added to his understanding of the dream land and why his sleeping mind had conjured this, of all places. The setting was exactly the same yesterday, and although he hadn’t paid close enough mind to those finer details last night, he was almost certain that if he were to look for every scratch and scuff on the playground’s slide, they would be exactly the same. The birds had come back to hover around their feet, unafraid as Dream casually swung his legs gently on the swing. Nick wondered why they itched to fly away at any sudden movement from his direction, but not from the blond’s. It felt like favoritism, really.

Or maybe it just reinforced the idea that Dream wasn’t as present as he was himself. That he really was just something out of his imaginative child mind. The thought made his stomach churn, so he pushed it away and out of his sight. Why should he care so much about what a pigeon thought anyways? Stupid birds.

“Tell me yours first” His voice surprised Nick out of his silly trance, and he looked up, weighing the deal in his head before Dream continued, “Now, or I won’t tell you mine at all.”

“Wait, wh-” He was interrupted, by the finality of his tone that came next,

“Nope, nevermind, you lost your chan-”

“Nick, Nick, My name’s Nick,” He said impulsively, cutting him off before he could even begin to celebrate that he was right, he  _ did  _ have a name to give away, his reluctance to answer was just him being difficult. It felt like such a slim opportunity that could so quickly be missed. Just like that, he handed out the information that he felt had so much weight to him, his one upper hand.

And when a long pause from the other end sustained, he began to feel like he had missed his sole opportunity. Well, there went his feeling of strength, now he held nothing above the other-- if he didn’t wish to provide an answer, there wasn’t something of equal exchange to be offered anymore. He could certainly plead, or argue, but something told him that it wouldn’t have all that much of an effect, and the last thing he wanted was to have his self image reduced to that of someone who  _ groveled  _ for information.

He still went to open his mouth though, maybe to form another compromise, hoping Dream would accept, when the hesitation was defeated and Dream finally said, “My name is Clay.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate route to take, but Nick couldn’t help the next question forming on his lips.

“Clay? Clay like pottery?”

_ Clay  _ almost looked offended for a moment, before he settled once again on an expression of fond amusement, deciding that the question wasn’t meant to be making fun, and the genuine expression Nick wore showed that he was in awe and trying to wrap his head around the way he could finally connect the face to a name. Dream responded to that with a scoff, “That’s so dumb, you’re an idiot.” But the tone he spoke in was far from malicious, and carried the same type of endearment that his face held so often. Nick decided, in that moment, that the name was fitting for him, for Clay, for Dream. He also decided not to argue his place as an idiot. Even he could see how the question was a little bit dumb. He wondered if Dream was the type to forget those little slip ups, or if he kept them locked away in the back of his head, in a file, as ammunition for the future.

Silence befell their surroundings for the umpteenth time, though this time it was far from being awkward and felt peaceful, as Nick thought up some other form of light interrogation to keep himself and Dream occupied and to avoid his bored face. Whatever questions he had begun to form would have to wait, though. As he turned to glance at him again, the same occurrence from the night before began to happen.

Dream was fading away again. Nick had almost let the shroud of fog surrounding them slip from his mind, getting caught up in the person who sat next to him. It had seemed less present than the night before, and maybe that had somehow assured him that there would be less of a chance for one of them to begin to disappear into it. Nick almost desired to reach out and hold him there to ground him in place, if not for the fear that grabbing hold of him would only speed up the process.

Instead he decided to answer to the confusion that had yet again risen in the eyes he felt burning him, unlike last time, where he had sat speechless. 

“Why- You’re disappearing again, why are you disappearing again? This happened last night too. Where did you go?” He had formed this question, quietly in his head the night before, and had held onto it, planning to ask. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t forgotten, in light of their far more pleasant route of conversation. Dream’s eyes lit slightly, registering the question. His answer seemed to take too long, and Nick was made aware of every passing second as he awaited it. The fragility of the dream land had returned, and he was afraid to break it and lose what little left of the other party he was still able to keep.

“I- I woke up, right?” Was his response.

And then he was gone again.

The answer left Nick with about a hundred more questions to ponder about, and although they made his head spin slightly as he overanalyzed and made countless assumptions, they seemed to pass the time a bit quicker, and for that he was grateful.

Dream woke up; that was the supposed reason for his sudden disappearances the past two nights. It made Nick question the notion that the boy was actually only a part of his imagination, for about the hundredth time, but also for the most substantial time. He sat in wonderment at the notion that Dream could potentially be his own person on the other end, in another part of the world, waking up and carrying about his day. They could be sharing the same dream land, communicating through the few times their sleep schedules collided.

The way he had framed it as a question, too, asking for confirmation or perhaps wondering how the reason he left Nick’s end of the dream was not obvious-- Maybe Dream initially thought the same of Nick as Nick had thought of him. that Nick was only a figment of his imagination, that  _ he  _ was the real one. It felt almost too existential to think about. He didn’t want to delve too deep, questioning his own humanity in the process.

The thought was childish, something out of the fantasy movies he’d sometimes watch, the idea of connecting with another person in their dreams. It also made him feel important, though, and purposeful. The implication that Dream could be a real human being, flesh and blood in the conscious world as much as he was, was fascinating to him. It made him want to reconvene.

His awakening was easier than yesterday, as he actually had the sense to lug himself into bed, rather than falling asleep at his desk and breeding any more soreness into his body. Although physically he didn’t feel any pain from the night before, ideas about what he would ask once he saw Dream again swirled around his mind, and he found himself lost in thought. He wondered what Dream would look like, if he weren’t shrouded in incessant fog, behind a dream like filter. In person he would look different, he thought, he would stick out more and look more vibrant. His face would look…

Huh, that was weird.

For the life of him, Nick could not piece together any memory of what Dream’s face looked like. He couldn’t remember the shape of his face or nose, or the color of his eyes or hair-- none of the things that would make him stick out against a crowd or in any situation. Trying to pull up any memory of his face had him drawing a blank.

He certainly hadn’t spent as much time ogling him this night as he had the last, and that was what he eventually chalked it up to. He hadn’t paid enough attention. This time around, if he saw him again, he would make sure to remember. He’d try to sneak small peeks that weren’t so obvious so as to create a mental image in his head that wouldn’t go away so easily. It was strange how easily his memory was inclined to forget such a memorable person, but this time he wouldn’t.

Thinking of how Dream could exist outside of the park bench they met at was still a strange thought regardless. He wasn’t sure what he would look like, animated. Now that Nick thought back on it, he wasn’t even entirely sure Dream could walk-- when they met, both times he was there already, seated and mostly stationary for the short amount of time they were together. Imagining him up and interacting with the world around him was different, and yet Nick simply couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Unlike the past night again, Nick wanted to see Dream. He wanted to ask questions, and break down the more guarded walls they had been putting up, no matter if it resulted in him sitting for a long stretch of time afterwards, with no company other than the birds. 

He went to bed earlier that night.

  
  


July 27, 2013

Luckily for him, the same occurrence repeated and when Nick opened his eyes, he found himself for the third time, in the dream land. The familiar sight of the metal slide filtered into his vision, then the swings, and as though his brain was buffering the world around him, Dream and the park bench appeared before him last, the lone person to accompany this world, other than Nick himself.

He invited himself into the seat next to him, and Dream welcomed him. It was as if they had already established a ritual, even from the few times they had met. Just like the two days prior, the pigeons scattered momentarily once he made his arrival and made himself comfortable, before settling back down in time with him.

This time, though, unlike what had been routine, there wasn’t so much of an awkward pause to start their meeting. It seemed that they were both just as eager to speak to each other, or to get the first word in. They both opened their mouths and had to cut themselves off once they realized they were speaking over the other. It resulted in a bit of awkward fumbling, as if making up for the fact that they had skipped past the typically ungraceful silence that usually started them off and they made eye contact, searching the other for any form of a hint on who’s statement should have priority. They both decided to quiet for a moment, until Dream finally gave his permission, with a small chuckle, “You can go first.”

“Okay,” he replied, and unceremoniously didn’t follow up.

“Wh- What? What is it?”

“I forgot”

“You  _ forgot _ , you’re kidding” Dream echoed in disbelief. And honestly, Nick should have probably felt the same; he had come into this dream prepared to ask about a hundred questions in the short amount of time they had, and while ‘forgetting’ was a bit of a falsehood, finally being sat before the blond with the ability to confront him on these hundreds of mysteries left him overwhelmed, and without a gathering for where he should even begin. The questions held varying importance: ranging from “what’s your favorite color and animal and food and place to be” to “are you real? Are you flesh and blood laying in another bed halfway across the universe having these dreams as well?” Their importance became blurred and he couldn’t figure out where he could even begin that would be appropriate.

Despite all of this, Nick broke into a laugh, because apparently peak humor for either of them came in the form of unfiltered shock on either one of their faces. The laughter was contagious and a quick glance at Dream told him that he was fighting back a wobbly smile of his own, even as he said “Oh my god, you’re lying, shut up,” and rolled his eyes, feigning irritation. It was something he would look back upon and whine internally about when he woke up-- all the time wasted here under hushed giggles instead of learning more about the mysterious person he was meeting with. But that was a regret for later, and he couldn’t deny that he was having fun.

Until he noticed the other’s hand reaching out to push gently against his shoulder, a movement akin to the one he had made the first night, when Dream had first teased him. It was nothing more than playful, and the other had certainly meant no harm, but it nonetheless resurfaced the memory of Dream fading away immediately after the fact, leaving him alone. Fearing the sudden disappearance more than anything, as well as the idea of having to wait emptily for another night before asking any more of his pressing inquiries, Nick immediately flinched away in response to the nearing contact before it could occur.

Dream’s expression morphed into a confused one, as it often did when confronted with a sudden and peculiar reaction from the other. It left Nick with a lingering sense of guilt as his hand pulled away and he withdrew into himself. An explanation for the reaction was owed, and he figured that the best way to offer that all the while making himself completely certain that his friend wasn’t going to magically disappear into thin air was to inquire about it himself.

“Last time that happened,” he spoke quietly and seriously, “You disappeared, or, ‘woke up,’ I guess.”

“What, last time I pushed you?”

“Well it was me pushing you, but… but yeah.” Nick nodded sheepishly, and suddenly felt embarrassed for being worried, wondering if Dream would not feel the same sentiment if he were to suddenly disappear into the fog.

“Why, did you miss me?” was his response back, lighthearted, breaking the tension that had formed just a bit, and Nick was grateful for the temporary ease, but couldn’t find it in himself to put up a fight in the way he was probably expected to.

“I mean, a little. You’d be missing people too, if you had to sit waiting for hours before waking up. I probably know these dumb pigeons better than I know you,” he said, bitterly, waving his arms in the direction of the birds. As if listening, they seemed to pause for a moment, before continuing on with their lives. Nick hoped he had offended at least a few of them.

That earned a small laugh, that trailed off, “That’s… that’s so weird,” Dream responded, and before Nick could agree with the general statement, he began to specify, “I mean all of it, the, the waiting for so long, the disappearing, the… you said that  _ you  _ wake up too. I didn’t think you were real. I thought you were just part of the dream. This is all so weird, I didn’t even question it--”

“I thought the same thing! I kept going back and forth ‘he sounds so real, but where did he come from?’” he mimicked his own questions to himself in a slightly deeper voice, “‘he speaks like a human, aren’t dreams supposed to be… they’re supposed to be, uh--’”

“They’re supposed to be more uncanny.” Dream finished for him, and Nick nodded in agreement, despite not knowing entirely what that word meant.

“Yeah! That! It was weird, and then… you said that when you started fading away, that you were waking up. So I wondered if like-- what if our dreams were connected?” suddenly his eyes shone with wonderment as he looked at the other. “Wouldn’t that be so cool? That we could talk to each other in our dreams?”

The other’s response came in the form of a pause, making it evident that he was attempting to keep up a little bit with all the information being thrown in his direction. He hesitated in his response, unsure whether he should believe the conclusion that had been decided upon. Nick felt his stomach churn as he watched Dream debate his existence in his head, and reassured himself that no matter what conclusion was made by the other, even if it rivaled his own, he would remain certain that he, himself, was real and that he was waking up every morning. Dream’s belief wouldn’t somehow change that about him.

It didn’t need to become a debate though, as Dream took a slightly different route, “So… you think if I touch you, one of us will wake up?” Nick nodded in confirmation, “Well why don’t we just try it out? It might have just been a coincidence.”

“But I still have so many questions,”

To Nick’s frowning face, Dream exasperatedly responded, “Well ask them then! Mr. ‘I forgot’” and that comment got a laugh out of Nick, who was dying for some sort of break from the heavy air.

“Okay, okay… Um, didn’t you have a question you wanted to ask earlier too?” He clumsily dodged around the initial order, once again playing into the fact that he was too nervous to ask them. Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration this time, though, to continue lightening the mood.

“Oh my god! Nick! you’re so dumb.” Now Nick couldn’t repress the way his shoulders were shaking with laughter at the clear annoyance seeping through, pushing all the buttons that would make Dream playfully upset. Once again, he could see the sliver of a smile pressing its way onto his face, the effects of his laughter spreading between them like a plague.

“Okay, okay! Fine!” he relented “What’s your favorite color,”

“Green, that’s a waste of a question, that’s not even important!”

“Is too! What were  _ you _ going to ask then,  _ Clay _ ,” It came to mind that he had learned Dream’s name, too, the night before, and he had intended to use it, to begin to make it feel natural being spoken above the given nickname ‘Dream’ in the unfortunate case that the latter ever accidentally slipped out. That idea seemed to have disappeared from his mind, until his own name was being used on him, and he decided to abuse his own power. The blond barely seemed to notice it the first time though. Either that, or he had blatantly ignored it.

“Something better than ‘what’s your favorite color’, that’s all,”

“You’re lying, you’re such a liar, I bet yours were just as bad,  _ Clay _ ,” he repeated, emphasizing his name again, determined to get some kind of reaction, and succeeding this time around,”

“St-stop saying my name like that, you’re so weird,  _ Nick _ ,”

“I’m just using my resources, C--” he was interrupted before he could repeat his name one more time, pushing the joke further.

“Your resour-- God, you’re getting so off track! Stop trying to distract me, I actually wanna see if I start to wake up whenever we make contact”

That rerouted them back to the original point, and Nick breathed out a sigh, realizing that they  _ had _ gotten painfully off track. There weren’t many pressing questions that needed to be answered in the exact moment, and most were just to create small talk. He had already received the answer to his most burning one, so he shouldn’t have been so hesitant to oblige and answer Dream’s request for him. It would probably resolve his own questions regarding the matter as well. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was definitely curious.

Even more, though, he really didn’t want to be left alone, assuming that the first time this type of thing had happened wasn’t only a coincidence.

Nick desperately hoped it was only a coincidence.

“Yeah, alright. Fine. We can do that. If you do end up waking up though, I’m gonna boo you next time I see you.”

That earned a small laugh, that, despite everything, eased his anxiety ever so slightly, “Yeah, I’ll deserve that,” Dream responded gently. “I don’t want to make you wait. But I’ll probably wake up eventually anyways.”

“Hm… Yeah I guess. Okay.”

Nick bit the bullet before his gut could decide against the action for him, and placed a hand gently on Dream’s shoulder. He was surprised, for the second time, of the solidity of him, and he urged himself not to jinx the scenario again by acknowledging that he had begun to once again think of the other as some sort of a ghost that his touch would simply dissolve through. He lingered there, for what felt like several minutes, daring some sort of disaster to faze through the silence and break the peace.

Nothing came though, and Dream remained present as ever. No broken expression made its way onto Nick’s face to suggest anything wrong was happening, and they became comfortable in the fact that they had resisted any type of tragedy. When he finally pulled his hand away from his shoulder, Dream’s eyes watched them curiously as it did not retreat back to his own side, but rather began to move in tandem with the other hand.

They reached up towards Dream, who eyed them carefully, but did not move away and they came to rest on his cheeks, squishing them together. Giggling at his furrowed brow, the almost grumpy but mostly befuddled face was humorous to him in light of the tense contact from before.

“You feel real,” Nick declared with finality, before pulling his hands away, and finally moving back to sit face forward on the bench, his cheeks a pale pink at the almost embarrassing amount of eye contact they had just made.

“That’s probably because I am,” His tone was just as gentle as it had been before they engaged in this whole ordeal, although it dripped with certainty and rekindled the sense of belief that Nick held in him, granting him the ability to continue trusting his words.

The fog seemed to clear, just a bit more around the two of them. The observation may have been an illusion on his end, his mind playing the trick on him as he became more certain in his belief and looked for some affirmation in his surroundings that this was the correct way to feel. Other than that, though, their playground felt as still and unchanging as ever. He welcomed the consistency, revelling in the comfort it provided. It was as if their two brains had connected, creating the perfect dreamland for them to take refuge in once the day was over, and it suddenly felt comfortable, rather than causing him negative anticipation for whatever tragedy would strike.

He felt assured that when night fell on July 28th, he would find himself seated on the park bench once again, watching the birds with his dream-boy, thinking up new questions to ask. Maybe next time he would find a way to bring bread and break off a couple of pieces to feed to them-- despite the distaste he claimed to carry, he would feel some sort of loss without them there to take up space. For now, though, he simply enjoyed the company and the silence.

Dream faded away that night again, but it was not so scary as the first two times in which the same thing had occurred. Nick held a better understanding of what was going on, and that he would not be lost forever, and because of that, or for whatever other reason, time seemed to fly by more quickly in the aftermath as he waited for his own awakening.

His own day after he woke up progressed as normally as it could, and the dream land only began to come to mind on occasion. Nick found himself thinking of stories he could tell to the other when they met again, any daily occurrence out of the ordinary felt noteworthy enough. Dream lived in his mind, the friend he couldn’t stop himself thinking about due to the air of mystique that still held itself high around him. He still knew so little about him, when he thought deeply about it. And he wanted to change that. There were still walls to break through.

One thing that plagued him was the realization that once again, he had forgotten to memorize Dream’s face. Not a single image of it, even after staring so intently at him at several points in the night, after the quick moments, even, where he had stolen glances to try to analyze his expressions. Perhaps it shouldn’t have bothered him as much, after all, every night that he went back, he could suddenly recall exactly what had been missing. It still made thinking about him in the daytime a bit more dull, lacking the same colorful vividness that accompanied each of these dreams.

He didn’t allow it to irk him, though, to such a great extent. Now that these meetings had proven themselves to be a pattern and to be more than coincidence, he felt as though he had ample time to memorize any image that had been lost to poor memory or dream-like magic.

They had time.

And Nick was planning to use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! you made it this far!
> 
> I've never written a fanfiction before, so this is a really new experience for me. My least favorite things in fics are when the characters are just,,, painfully ooc so i'm hoping a did an okay job describing their interactions here? i'm not sure but this was entirely for fun and I had a good time writing this so here we are!! 
> 
> this bad boy is going to hopefully be about 10 chapters long, and will probably be a long term project. I'll try to get updates out speedy fast!! hopefully this wasn't too scuffed or anything. If you've read this far ily mwah


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // derealization
> 
> the time skips get a bit bigger in this chapter!

Early August, 2013

August began to roll around and the sky became moodier, darker, heavier with clouds as stormy weather finally began to settle in Texas. There was not always rain to accompany it, but the low rumble of thunder made home in the skies and the hiss of the wind chasing through trees often trail not far behind. It didn’t pull all of the heat away from the warm south, and it did nothing to cure the air of its humidity, but the bruised grey skies at least offered a bit of a shield from the beaming rays of sun.

Most of Nick’s summers were spent inside, anyhow, while he stayed with his dad over winter, spring, and summer breaks. Being hours away from his usual home with his mom meant that meeting up with the people he typically made himself company around was near impossible, unless someone was willing to drive them a couple of hours away for a days length rendezvous (they weren’t, reasonably).

The storming season in combination with this made for a lot of time sitting on the ratty old computer chair kept in his room. If one thing was positive about being locked indoors at a house that was more unfamiliar to him than familiar, it was the fact that he had access to his own computer in his room. Staying up to play video games was made significantly easier now that he didn’t have to stealthily make his way down into his mom’s office room late at night to sneak in an extra 20 minutes of Terraria before the blue light was noticed creeping under the door.

Gloomy skies also made him feel less pity for sleeping in, as the sun wouldn’t find its way in front of thick clouds until the later morning either way. The summer time had already partially butchered the sleep schedule that most middle schoolers were in charge of maintaining-- but now he found himself clutching onto sleep for another reason. Nick attempted to savor every moment that lasted sitting on that park bench making conversation. The margin of time he spent there with company seemed to be growing with each passing night.

It was a comfortable pattern at this point: Nick awoke within the dream each night to see Dream, who was always ready to greet him with a small wave, as though he had been waiting patiently on the bench for his arrival. Usually they picked up conversation easily. Nick always came prepared with an arsenal of questions ready to ask, and almost always neglected to ask a single one of them as they floated into their typical back and forth. It was easier to learn things about the other that way, anyhow, rather than asking directly. Dream tended to dodge around any blatant inquiries thrown at him, as if he hadn’t quite grown to trust the other yet.

That was fair enough, even if Nick jumped to answer anything directed at him, like it hadn’t only been a week, more or less, since they had first met. Sometimes, when he answered first, Dream would answer back. An eye for an eye, but only when the blond felt like indulging him. It was annoying and it was inconsistent, but Nick was constantly pressed to learn more. He could sacrifice a little bit of pride to indulge himself and figure out the enigma that was the dream-boy.

“Hey, hey, how old are you, anyways?” he had asked one night. The sky was cloudier, as if the dream land was finally reflecting some of the real world that was familiar to him, and Nick wondered quietly if it could rain here-- and if it did, would they run and seek shelter or let it soak into the pajamas they always wore to bed. The fog was never suffocatingly heavy, so he couldn’t picture any other precipitation having much of an effect on them.

“Probably older than you,” Dream spared him a glance, and the beginning of a smile.

“And what gives you that impression?” 

“You act like a child.”

He had expected a jab at his appearance, not at his personality, and his offended expression revealed that. Dream laughed at him.

“That’s-- I don’t. That wasn’t even the question, answer the question!” he whined, trying to break through the snickering boy besides him and get some sort of acknowledgement, fully prepared to bargain with his own trivial facts about himself. Shockingly, it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m thirteen,”

“That’s not even, you’re only a year older than m-”

“But my birthday is in a few days.”

“What? Are you serious?” That was enough for Nick to drop the initial subject immediately, eyes suddenly sparkling at the other boy, whose face was hiding the smallest traces of amusement.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“You’re always trying to trick me,” he said, a bit too naturally. The split-second of quiet was too long, and he quickly continued onward, not wanting silence to spread between them and somehow force them off topic again. Dream turning 14 was too important of an event to skim over. “Are we going to throw a birthday party?” He asked, and earned a scoff. It barely registered, too busy fantasizing about every festivity and party game he could somehow cram into their two-person get-together.

“You don’t even know the day-”

“August... 12th” he guessed on the spot, and was rewarded with wide eyes and a look of disbelief. “Oh my god, was that right? Was I right? That was totally right, wasn’t it” And it was his turn to laugh, as Dream beheld him as some sort of psychic for a split second, eyeing him without abandon and with an almost alarmed curiosity.  
“How did you guess that?” and Nick’s response came, still wrapped halfway in proud laughter, like he couldn’t believe it himself; that he had guessed the right day out of all the upcoming days of August.

“I’m smart, Dre- Clay. I’m really-”

“You’re so dumb. That was a lucky guess,” Dream was correct in that assumption, and he pulled his arms up to himself and crossed them, rolling his eyes, playfully ticked off with the other. Being called dumb by him could really be akin to a pet name, Nick thought, more affectionate than anything that the word should have implied when it came out of his mouth.

“So what? Now that I know, I can throw you a birthday party, myself.”

“And how exactly are you gonna pull that off?”

Nick shook off the quirked eyebrow that he had been given, unaccepting of any criticism, even in the form of simple questions. With a triumphant smile he said,

“You don’t have to worry about that, I have a plan!”

  
  


August 12, 2013

As it turned out, Nick did not have a plan.

He had wholeheartedly intended to get some sort of surprise ready in their meeting spot, so that when Dream arrived their bench would be prepared and readied with streamers and banners hanging from the swing sets and slides, maybe even a small, poorly wrapped present manufactured by his very own hands. It was easier to daydream about the warm approval and praise he’d receive in return, than it was to make it a reality. A plethora of issues were soon brought to his attention as each day brought him closer to his “deadline”.

For one, in all the time that Nick and Dream had been meeting within these dreams, there hadn’t been a single time where Nick arrived first. Dream was always glued to the bench where they remained. Imagining him approaching Nick almost felt unnatural in what his eyes had accustomed. It didn’t help that Nick’s summer-time circadian rhythm had become distorted so that falling asleep past the late hours of two or three in the morning was practically impossible, unless he wanted to set some type of early morning alarm in an attempt to correct that. Even if he had the drive to set one, it was doubtful that he wouldn’t sleep straight through it.

It made the idea of decorating for a surprise party unrealistic. What kind of event would it be if Dream had to sit idly by while he placed each decoration in its rightful place, spending their precious time on appearances. Unprompted paranoia resurfaced within him as well, while he worried that there would be rain, or if the wind would blow any balloons away. Irrational, but being new to these dreams still, there was a possibility for anything to happen.

There was also the very pressing question of how he would get access to birthday related items in his sleep. Conjuring any item into his hand seemed out of reach-- he doubted he held any godlike powers within the dream world and even if he did, he had absolutely no idea how to go about uncovering them. Getting his hands on a birthday present seemed slightly more achievable, if only because he was driven by its importance, more than any bauble hung up for atmospheric purposes.

But god, what would Dream even want for his birthday? And how would he get his hands on it?

The day of Dream’s birthday, Nick sat himself down at his desk with only the slightest semblance of a plan, and frantically scribbled out the makings of a letter, once, twice, three times, before finally getting the wording correctly. Then he crammed it into a generic birthday card; the kind that his dad kept in a drawer in case they had forgotten an important holiday and didn’t have time to prepare a gift. The kind that people usually shoved money into for lack of a more specific gift. But for some reason, he just couldn’t bear the idea of giving something without some kind of sentimentality attached.

The note was almost obnoxiously sappy, as he read it back to himself, maybe a bit too sincere for his liking. It was certainly not a great idea to be overthinking so soon before he was actually meant to be falling asleep. His idea was to simply cling tightly to the card, now sealed within an envelope, and hope that whatever magic that brought his clothes along with him into the dreamworld took enough pity on him to bring the card along as well.

If that didn’t work, he’d feign ignorance or dish out a genuine apology. At this point, he was probably stressing about this more than Dream was anticipating it. It was a bridge to cross when he got there, he said, tucking the letter between his arms and shutting his eyes.

After his brain had become sufficiently exhausted, Nick was finally able to find the solace of sleep and a mixture of relief and unease greeted him.

Relief, that in his hand was the card he had written into, albeit a bit crumpled in the corner as evidence that he had slept on it. All that stress about showing up empty handed finally dissipated. The new knowledge that he could actually take tangible things from the real world with him was a major discovery. It was something to keep in mind for the future. His unconscious world was one step further away from being a complete and utter mystery.

Unease came as he saw an unfamiliar sight in front of him, in the form of an empty bench.

At first, Nick considered that maybe he was falling right into some sort of trick, while he warily shuffled towards their usually seat, and made sure to look around the area a bit-- behind the bench, beneath the slide, as if Dream would be hiding behind any of these places ready to pop out and jump-scare him. Unceremoniously, he was nowhere to be found. It was almost ironic that after his certainty that Dream would be awaiting him as usual, he was nowhere to be seen. Nick took a seat, and fiddled with the already wrinkled envelope in his hands. It was always quiet whenever Nick was here alone, but the unexpectedness of his absence in the moment made the loneliness akin to that first night, where he felt time stretch on into infinity. The wind breezed through the warmth in the air quietly, but aside from that, the haunting playground was very still. There were no pigeons dancing around his feet as they usually were when he arrived. The lack of life left an ache within him.

He waited despite the silence, although there wasn’t much of a choice. The desolate version of the dreamworld was not entirely new to him, though he had not missed it at all.

Nick blinked heavily, and when he opened his eyes, Dream was sitting next to him, staring, mere inches away from his face.

That was the jump-scare he had been waiting for earlier. The sharp inhale was just short of a yell, and he stood suddenly, staggering backwards so that he nearly tripped over one of the birds who had decided to appear alongside his fashionably late friend. The small creature stepped away from him, flapping its wings, as Nick reigned his soul back into his body. In Dream’s eyes, it must have been the finest form of entertainment; this sudden show of clumsiness, evidence by the way he fought back a smile, to no avail. His laughter showed on his face clearly, his cheeks pushing up against his eyes and causing small wrinkles to form in the corners. Nick had been under the assumption that Dream would spawn in the same spot that Nick always did, away from the park bench, giving him at least a second to react. Nothing had prepared him for his friend to magically appear with such little distance between them. It was a wonder Nick still hadn’t memorized a single detail in his face. The initial proximity was enough that he could pick out each freckle, before he had jolted away.

“You’re late!” He exclaimed, releasing the words he had been withholding for all this time. Then he took a seat on the bench again, awaiting his explanation.

The explanation didn’t come. As per typical, Dream bit back, “You’re early.”

“I’m literally not.”

Dream’s eyes darted down to the card in Nick’s hand, distracted by it, or looking for an out of the conversation. The envelope was blue, and ‘Clay’ was written in scratchy lettering on the front. A small black squiggle sat in the corner, from where he had tested his pen. The presence of it stuck out, if only for the fact that it was an inconsistency in their barely changing setting. “What’s that?”

It was an obvious digression, but Nick followed suit, and finally gave up ownership of the gift.

“Happy birthday!” He smiled sheepishly, watching Dream take the envelope and examine the creased paper. “I’m sorry it’s kinda lame, I know I like… hyped it up a lot, I guess, and it’s not super party-y here either,” he took the lack of response he received a cue to keep on rambling. “I wasn’t sure how to transport streamers or, or anything, but I wanted to at least acknowledge it, I mean, you’re old now, so… so…”

The gaze Dream dealt him as he trailed off was fascinated to the point that it felt intrusive, and Nick found himself reaching behind his neck and averting his eyes away. “How did you get this here?”

More relief pooled into him; Dream seemed more occupied with what he was the least worried about. Truthfully, Nick had stopped stressing about the process of getting the card into the dream after it happened. Questioning it felt like a waste of time, and he had more important things to fret over.

Such as… the decorations he had been so insistent on getting. The ones that Dream didn’t seem to care about whatsoever. Maybe he needed to get his priorities straightened out.

“I have no idea, I just fell asleep with it,” He admitted.

“It was that easy?”

“You’re making it sound like less of an accomplishment!” The whine drew a short laugh out of Dream, and it was just contagious enough to spread to him. Nick smiled, finally.

“No, it’s cool. I just didn’t know we could do that. I’m surprised.” He sounded impressed, and Nick figured the tone was the closest he’d be getting to any type of praise, so he celebrated it quietly. “So will I wake up with it?”

That was a question Nick didn’t have the answer to, and although his uncertainty was clear in his expression, the eyes upon him still seemed to be seeking an answer. He wished for more control over their meeting spot, desiring any info that might be hidden in plain sight, if only to feed Dream’s curiosity. “I haven’t really tested that out yet.”

“Oh.”

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?”

As unsure as the response was, it was taken and accepted. Dream placed the envelope beside him on the bench, his hand gently pressed upon it, flattening it where it had already been slightly folded, so that the wind would have no chance of blowing it away. His expression became stoic, and Nick desperately hoped that behind those eyes, there wasn’t accompanying disappointment with this realization.

“You’re… not going to open it?”

“Not now, no”

“But you just said-- I mean, you might not wake up with it.”

The look he received was knowing, and Nick realized quickly that the action was deliberate, and not a slip in his mind. “I’ll take that risk, I don’t really want you watching me while I open it.”

God, dream-boy never ceased to perplex him. “Why not?”

“I just don’t,” and that adamant response ended the discussion promptly. Nick realized pushing would most likely just make the other close himself off even more. He wasn’t sure he would be able to bear seeing Dream’s reaction anyways, or risk the chance of being laughed at. Instead, he waited out for a few moments before reaching out once again.

“Soo… what type of stuff did you get?”

They grew more comfortable in their positions, seated close to one another. It would be easy for Nick to lay his head on Dream’s shoulder, if, for some paradoxical reason, he ever grew tired while he was sleeping. It didn’t seem completely out of the question. Dream would probably let him too, he thought. Though he shied away from giving out those little personal details Nick reveled in knowing, physical contact was nothing short of regular for them. Gentle nudges and pushes shared between them, now that there was no fear that it would force the other to disappear.

“A cat.”

“A cat? Like a real cat?”

Dream smiled fondly, being brought back to the memory of the cat. “Yeah, a real cat.”  
“Is it… small?”

“It’s a rescue. She’s old.”

“Is she small in the brain?”

It earned a scoff as well as a smile. “No, idiot, she’s very smart. Unlike someone I know…” He trailed off, while Nick bumped against his side gently in protest.

“Hey, shut up, I’m not-”

Dream laughed out, because any distressed reaction given to him by Nick was peak comedy for him, “How did you know I was talking about you,” and even though Nick responded with a pout, the thought of pulling them back into their lighthearted conversation was wholly worth the sacrifice of insinuating dream’s nickname was correct.

“It makes sense then, why you were late,” Nick realized, “the first night with a pet is always…“

“I wanted her to feel comfortable. My mom was going to stay up, but I really wanted to be with her,” he said, gently. vulnerability was not something Dream revealed to him often. Of course animals would be a way to break through the plaster— it wasn’t a surprising weakness. It wouldn’t have been surprising for anyone. But Nick appeared fascinated by it regardless, by the softness of him. Before Dream could notice him staring, he turned his head away, huffing out a sigh.

“Fine, I guess I'm not mad at you for being late anymore.”

“You were mad?” He could see the raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.

“It was annoying! I hate being alone here.”

It was a joke, lighthearted in all of its intent, and yet it came out surprisingly genuine. Nick felt his cheeks heat up, trying to brush it off, hoping they could move on from this, but Dream turned towards him, asking for his attention. It was impossible to get out of making eye contact now. The gaze that was bestowed upon him was just as gentle as before, unchanged from when he was speaking so fondly of his new cat. Maybe this should have upset him; he hated being pitied, but he found himself sitting dumbfounded. The attention didn’t feel negative, so he accepted it. “Well, you’re not alone now. Sorry, Nick.”

Nick accepted his apology. it _was_ his birthday, after all.

  
  


November 2, 2013

Adjusting to a normal sleeping schedule was one of the easier changes to make when the break from school finally came to an end and routine became necessary. Having to wake up and fall asleep at structured hours meant more time spent meeting with Dream on their playground. Falling asleep at a reasonable time felt like a reward more than an obligation.

School gave them more to talk about, as they recounted stories to each other about menial middle school drama, unfair teachers, and class jokes. Dream’s stories always tended to be a bit more intense than his in nature. They worked well at keeping him engaged, even when the other would cut himself off by breaking into small laughs at his own tale, stumbling over words. There wasn’t much about school that he seemed to take seriously, or much he liked about it in general.

Nick loved to listen, though. Loved to finally hear some of the little details about Dream’s life that were usually guarded from him, even if they weren’t specifically about him and things he had done. They still made room for him to make properly educated assumptions.

Summer hovered low in the air even as Autumn began its slow wade through the South, taking leaves off the trees and sprinkling them into front yards and sidewalks. As Nick shuffled down the street in the morning to meet his bus, he stomped on the ones that sat unassuming on the cement, feeling them crunch under his feet. It was like this everyday once the school year had started up, maybe a bit boring from an outsider looking in, but comfortable.

About 2 weeks later, that comfortable routine burnt up into flames. Just long enough into the school year to finally grow accustomed to its pattern, he was informed that he would be moving to live permanently with his father and stepmother.

Moving shouldn’t have felt like the world stopping its revolution on its axis or like being told that the apocalypse was about to occur, but hearing the news was akin to having someone slam their hands on a piano. An array of horrible chords putting his life on halt. He jumped between disbelief and upset, his brain a horrible dissonance, and put up a short fight before the realization began to simply exhaust him.

He’d lived all of his 12 years of life in his small town, knew all the people at his school and in his neighborhood as they knew him. Now it was as if he were being displaced, forced to start anew and make a habitat out of a house that has never felt anything like a home to him. Wondering whether his friends would even care to keep up with him filled him with a deep sense of dread; he already knew the answer in the back of his mind. If the lonesome summer breaks he spent up there were any indication of how good his current friends were at long distance communication, then he wouldn’t be getting his hopes up. At the very least, during those off vacations, he’d get to look forward to after the break, and to reconnecting. That wasn’t so much of an option with the expansive distance that would remain between them.

There wasn’t a place to direct his dissatisfaction with the situation, so he internalized it and let it bubble beneath his flesh. It slipped out, every so often, in the form of a snarky remark, too vicious to be anything as simple as irritation. Nearing the middle of October, when the moving process finally began, he didn’t try to fight the instincts that told him to distance himself from others. Staying quiet was the only way he knew how to cope, as ineffective as it was.

The immediate result was Nick attaching himself even stronger to Dream. In the beginning of their meetings, he sat worried that one day he would suddenly disappear from him, as if all of this really was just one strangely long and recurring dream. Now he viewed sleep as the sole constant in his life, his refuge from the storm that brewed constantly overhead in his dull perception of the earth. Even if the weather was always a bit brooding when they sat on that park bench-- it was better than the constant strikes of lightning that his life seemed to love throwing on him.

So when night fell on November 2nd, a few days after school had begun again for him in his new town, he sought the night again for asylum.

As much as Nick had tried to pretend things were okay, the beginnings of fatigue began to cloud his mind. He longed for his recent past and some sort of time machine, with the knowledge that this longing would never reasonably be resolved. 

Dream might have noticed this, and let it fall to the background. If Nick wanted to talk about it, he would have mentioned it. He had never had experience with the other hiding anything from him before, and Nick wasn’t one to hide his expression to the extent that Dream attempted to (or failed to, most of the time). They were talking about his exterior life, the life he lived outside of their dreamland, and it was too much of an intrusion to force those parts out of him when he was unwilling.

Nick claimed that he didn’t mind this, internally. Dream never had to do so much as mention the change, if he didn’t want to. He could still face the world, so long as at least one person sat beside him. It wasn’t long until so much of that which was boiling within him evaporated though. He began to feel drained and it showed in the quiet that made presence around them.

As if responding to silence, Nick heard Dream’s voice, quietly, “Hey… you okay?”

It snapped him out of the haze he’d grown so accustomed to. Suddenly, he wasn’t only entertaining a fantasy where the boy sitting next to him cared, but living it. It enabled him to wipe the fog away, and leave his own head. As he returned to his surroundings, the familiarity made warmth resonate within him. One of the pigeons appeared to be peering up at him, as if awaiting his response along with Dream. The dream world was comfortable, safe as ever, and Nick wondered why he ever doubted that it had become the opposite of a sanctuary.

Unsure how to express such a plethora of emotions in one response, he became inarticulate. It was so easy to get overwhelmed by the thoughts flowing to and fro in his brain unrestrained, to the point where talking about them barely seemed like an option. Dream reached out his hand to him, but Nick refused it, gently. Thankful, but not wanting to disrupt the peace they had created together. Instead of detailing each misfortune he’d been dealing with, he sighed. It was exaggerated and deep; his typical reaction when he was faced with a nuisance.

His head found Dream’s shoulder, and he rested there, letting himself relax with his exhale, before resuming his steady breaths. He couldn’t see his expression, and didn’t quite feel like craning his neck up to try and find it. He’d already made himself too comfortable. It was easy to picture it, anyways, the look of false annoyance combined with amusement. It always seemed to appear whenever Nick did something vague but not out of character. The idea was practically confirmed, when he heard Dream breathe out a small chuckle.

The lack of a response was enough of a hint that Dream was compelled to continue, and Nick was once again grateful that his friend was willing to fill up the empty space with his voice. “I’ll… take that as a… meh?”

“Uh huh, that’s pretty accurate,”

“What would make you feel better?”

That offer opened a lot of previously closed opportunities; it was rare for Dream to simply open himself to requests like that. He thought deeply over possible options for a total of 5 seconds, before deciding that venting might be too much to commit to. At least, being here, he could have a secret distraction, an escape from the ever changing world surrounding them.

It wasn’t an act, when he grew more lighthearted. He was sinking into the offered comfort. “Play a game with me,” was the decision he made, after humming quietly. “Entertain me.”

Dream scoffed, taking the lighthearted tone to mean he didn’t have to coddle Nick to spare his feelings, and that they could resume their typical course of conversation. “Yeah, anything else, _your highness?_ ,” and Nick could have sworn he heard him mumble something about him being “so bossy.”

He left Dream’s shoulder, drawing his attention over to him again. If they had been anywhere other than in a dream, there might have been a slight chill from being suddenly pulled away from him. Dream was usually warm, a miniature radiator at all times. But he could not remember a single time where he’d felt anything but pleasantly temperate, even when exposed to the singing wind that sometimes pushed the swings nearby forward and back.

“No, no, that’ll be fine,”

“What kind of game do you wanna play?”

An inquisitive expression drew over Nick’s face, as he pondered his options. “Something chill.”

The tone in the other’s voice was exasperated. “Like?” Nick was giving him nothing. Still, the annoyance laced in his voice humored him.

“Why don’t we play truth or dare?”

The game was the first thing that came to mind-- a party game with no outside materials needed, and barely any knowledge of the person next to them required. Coming up with dares might be a bit odd, considering they were limited solely to the bench and to the playground. There still came a certain uneasiness when he thought about trespassing beyond their bubble of awareness within the park. An uncertainty that led him to believe that wandering for too long would make him a victim to the fog, forcing him to dissolve there and never wake from the dreamland again.

An intrusive idea took hold of him, saying that maybe he wouldn’t even mind this, that at least he’d be safe there, and maybe it might even be nice. His rapture within a delusion. He shook his head quickly, to be rid of the thought, and then quickly interrupted himself, so that Dream wouldn’t think the action was targeted at him. “I- I’ll go first, um,”

His mind blanked and rebooted while Dream rolled his eyes, clearly unsurprised by the blanking. It was typical, whenever he was put on the spot “Go on?”

“What’s your… I mean-- Truth or dare!”

“Dare.”

That was the obvious answer, Nick realized. The other would never willingly give out any sort of information in the way that Nick always did so easily. He’d be surprised if that unspoken rule were broken within the game, and doubted that he’d be picking any other option for the remainder of the game. but it also gave Nick the opportunity to request something he had been thinking about a lot lately, without seeming a complete moron.

“I dare you to stand up.” It seemed, from the humored expression on Dream’s face, that the game didn’t make the question any less strange. The sudden urge to defend himself from the intrusive gaze rose within him, and before a comment could be made he added on, “What? It’s not weird. I’ve literally never seen you walk before.”

“That’s so…” The boy seated next to him raised his hand, as if to gesture something, and seemed to have every intention to continue speaking despite no words coming out. He made a vague sound. “Okay, This is basically a freebie though.” And then he stood up.

Nick had been right on that first day, that he was taller than him-- he could tell, even without standing next to him as a comparison. The temptation was there, to see just how they would match up shoulder to shoulder, but it seemed like a difference of at least a few inches. Dream was tall and lanky, and truthfully hadn’t grown completely into his height yet, but Nick still couldn’t resist staring, dumbfounded. He also wouldn’t know how to comprehend the embarrassment of measuring side by side and-

Dream took his hand and pulled him up, “While we’re up, we should go explore. We can walk and play at the same time, my legs need to be stretched.” If he saw the wide eyes staring up at him, interested by something so minute as him _standing_ , he didn’t acknowledge it. It was so strange, to see him moved out of his normal setting, without the backdrop of the bench frame. It might as well have been a glitch in the programming of his sleeping mind.

“They would be, yeah, considering you’ve been sitting for all of 4 months,” He responded, smartly.

“5 months now. But yeah.” 5 months. Time sure flew by when they didn’t actively count it. Nick was acutely aware of Dream’s footsteps crunching into uneven ground, while they moved over the woodchips. They moved in more of a shuffle, than a walk, matching the slow pace that had been set, and made his way towards the swingset.

“It’s-- Clay, It’s your turn.”

“Truth or dare?”

He made a noise as he decided, as if thinking up every possible outcome for both options in the span of a moment, before saying “Truuuth,” dragging it out a bit, unsure.

“That’s so boring”

‘Wh-What the-- just ask me a-”

“I can just ask you questions any time, you always answer.”

It was true, and displayed just how the value of information changed between them. Nick held onto those little tidbits and scraps, thinking of them into the waking morning when he went about his daily routine. He wondered if Dream’s thoughts were as occupied with the silhouette of the park bench as his always seemed to be. Doubtful, especially now, feeling as though the quieter details of his life held no weight comparable to Dream’s.

“This might as well be dare or dare, then.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s still fun though.” Dream fell into the swing, falling into a small rhythm as he pumped his legs back and forth, gaining momentum, but not enough that Nick couldn’t stand near to him. “You can still ask me questions, I guess, if I pick truth”

“You won’t.” It was almost accusatory, and Dream just hummed in response, as Nick fell into the swing beside him, kicking his legs out of rhythm, opposite to the boy behind him, using it as a seat more than anything. They always got off track, somehow, from wherever the course of their conversation originally went. “Fine, I choose dare then.”

“I dare you to try and pick up one of those pigeons. With your hands” The response was immediate, as though the blond had been holding it in and it had burst out of him. He wore a wobbly smile, evidently trying to hold back a laugh from the sheer ludicrousy of the idea in combination with the repulsed expression on Nick’s face. The pigeons were still near the bench, plucking around and minding their own business. They could be mistaken for a hologram, Nick thought, as they moved around, repeating movements he was certain he’d seen hundreds of times before. But the repetition wasn’t all they knew, and though Nick had never actually reached out to try and pet any of them, he was almost certain that they would be corporeal; that his hand wouldn’t phase through, such as with every other thing in their dreamland.

He also knew of the vendetta these birds had against him, and protested, “No, no, I can’t do that, are you insane? What if they like, peck my eyes out or something?”

“They won’t do that”

Nick almost believed him there, knowing of the way Dream seemed more intrinsically connected with the birds. It was most likely naivety speaking within his brain, but he wouldn’t even doubt some sort of deeper telepathic connection between them; they were still in a dream after all. It made him no less reluctant to comply though. “How do you know that?”

“Well, I mean, I can’t promise. But I doubt it will happen. Usually they just fly away.”

“Exactly, so I wouldn’t even be able to catch one anyway!”

“Wowww, Nick’s already backing out of the game?” His voice was unimpressed, “Laaame.”

Unable to find a coherent retort, Nick made sound in between a groan and a whine, before standing up again. “If I die, it's on you” he said, and made his way back to the bench that they had just abandoned. Dream waved to him out of the corner of his eye, nonchalantly, and he repressed the urge to roll his eyes.

As the birds grew closer to him, he began to nervously trod around them, worried about disturbing them more than he was already going to. A misstep onto the woodchips beneath his feat had them perking up, so sensitive to the noise, and Nick froze immediately, to regain the ounce of stealth he had begun with.

And yet when Dream cupped his hands around his mouth, to amplify the sound of his voice, when he said “You’re taking too long!” they didn’t move an inch. He never questioned the blatant bias towards the other and against him, just huffed quietly and focused back. He was aware from experience that getting close to them and staying still would eventually make them calm, as it had on every other day when they stood around his feet. All that was needed was to get them comfortable, and then somehow get a hold of one. The things he would do for his friend, who he imagined would be eating popcorn if he could somehow manifest it from thin air.

When Nick dived into the ground, his thought process was that he’d be able to catch them off guard, getting the upper hand. Somehow the dream would compensate and do the rest of the magic for him. Whatever gracefulness he thought he’d have was evidently lacking, as he found himself heading head first into the ground. His impulses were quick enough that he was able to catch himself moments before, only successfully marring the skin of his hands and elbows as they landed in front of him. At the very least, his face had been shielded from any exterior damage.

The pigeons flew away as soon as he got remotely near them, as to be expected. He let his head rest gently on the ground, the only cushioning being the wood chips beneath him, and didn’t bother to pick himself off of the floor. Dream, from a few feet away, exploded into laughter.

He heard it more than he could see it, with his head turned in the opposite direction, as footsteps grew nearer to him. He shifted slightly, so that he could see the hand reaching out to him out of the corner of his eye, an offering. Slowly, he moved himself into a sitting position, and grasped onto the hand of the other boy who was still bubbling over with wheezing laughter, wincing only a bit as warm contact met with his burning, scraped skin.

Pouting, Nick pulled the hand downward with a force that seemed to catch Dream off guard. The smile dropped from his face, and he let out a gasp close to a shout, and fell onto the ground beside him, eating the same woodchips Nick had collided with just a bit earlier. With their roles reversed, he could feel a bit more at ease, and smiled again despite himself. At least they were equal now, he thought, while Dream recovered from the shock and sat up again. “That’s what you get,” he spoke proudly.

His voice was met with a push hard enough to knock him off balance slightly, and he raised his arm to attempt to counter this, and to provide himself with some semblance of balance. “That’s what I get??”

“It was a stupid dare!”

“I was gonna come over to help you and this is how im treate-”

“Oh my god, you’re still not over this? The pigeons don’t like me!” His persistence was appalling, but Dream only nodded, his face suddenly breaking into a sheepish smile.

“Not yet. Look, they’re coming back!” And they were; not at all perturbed by Dream’s presence in the way they were constantly wary of him. It wasn’t as if they were affectionate towards him, they just waddled around like he was barely there. Maybe they were seeking tentative comfort in the blond as well.

The couple of birds flocked around him, and Dream reached out slowly to grab one of them, his arms outstretched towards a particularly fat one. Some imaginary light source hit it, making the side of its neck practically shine with its green and purple coloration. It was completely unbeknownst to him how his friend just happened to be some kind of bird whisperer, and yet he still found his eyes glued to the way Dream approached them so naturally. They didn’t even seem to mind.

His hand had to be mere inches away, before the bird finally startled, and flew a few meters into the distance. Nick looked more surprised than Dream, having thought he’d just witnessed some sort of animal taming magic unravel within the other.

“I seriously thought that was going to work.” Dream was blinking at him, and Nick met his eyes, his mouth wide open.

“Are you serious? How come they like you so much??”

“I… I’m not really sure? I think they just do. Some kind of weird dream thing.”

Nick hummed, and they fell quiet next to one another. Rather than try to pull any risky maneuvers, they settled for sitting side by side, simply watching the birds for a moment. A break from the chaos they had created together.

“Should we keep playing?” Dream broke the silence. It was such a simple gesture, but it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one interested, that Dream was enjoying himself here as much as he was. It felt safe. He would wake up and the scrapes would disappear from his hands and he’d forget the pain along with some other details. And then they would meet again the next night, and the night after that, as per usual.

“Okay, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

  
  


March 25, 2014

It had been a slow progress, learning and taking from bits and pieces until Dream had grown to trust enough to confide in Nick. Albeit, it still wasn’t often, but it was more than ever before, and Nick listened deeply to each part of himself that he bore, no matter how small. He held the information close to him.

But the warmth that continued to grow between them halted suddenly while the skies grew blue and bright again. Nick remembered the exact day that Dream had begun to close himself off to him. Something changed abruptly, and the progress they made seemed to reverse, Dream growing quieter and colder-- barely noticeable at first to the point that Nick figured he was simply imagining things. But even without being verbally told much about Dream, spending every night with him had made him acutely aware of little actions denoting emotion in the other. Sometimes Dream would move to the side, further away on their seat to put space between them. He wouldn’t meet his eyes as easily. He wouldn’t speak out first, relying on Nick to push conversation along.

It was worrying, first and foremost. He wanted to reach out and snap him out of the haze he seemed to be falling into with the snap of his fingers, but the initial barriers they put up around each other made him wonder if that would be an invasion of privacy. So he let Dream withdraw into himself with little restraint.

When he finally mentioned this concern, he told himself it was to return a favor from the months past when Dream had reached out to him. He was under the impression that this problem was also manifesting itself outside of their meeting place, and that this time, _he_ could be a means of escape. Nick made himself as empathetic as possible, wondering about whatever was boiling beneath the surface. if it was something like what he was going through in November, he could help. When he finally poked at Dream’s side, to get his attention, he noticed him move a tad further away from him. Moving any more might as well land him off the bench, on the floor next to it.

Dream made eye contact though, looking as though he were holding something in, and Nick made a point to wait a moment, for him to speak and get it off of his chest. When moments passed without a word he decided for himself that he could start first. They ended up talking at the same time.

“Is everything okay with you?”

“We need to stop meeting here.”

Nick blinked, feeling somewhat like he was just plucked out of a scripted tv show, with the timing. He was certain he had misheard.

“Huh-- what?”

“We need to stop meeting here.” There was a finality in his tone, in the repetition. Nick pulled his eyes away for a moment, to take in the statement. It rendered him speechless for a moment, the utmost certainty it was spoken with. Was this what had been on his mind for so long, he thought, some kind of break from the friendship they had made? It didn’t make an ounce of sense in his brain and he blamed it on sleepy delirium, although that had never been a problem before in the dream land before.

Their eyes met again, though Dream had never looked away. “Why?” The other’s expression steeled against him, cold. The space between them on the bench suddenly seemed to stretch and expand between, a distance that had never been present, even when they had first met. Dream still hesitated a bit when he responded, and the emotion of it gave Nick an ounce of hope before reaching out and shattering it into splinters of glass.

“Because. I don’t know you, and we keep meeting here, and I’m uncomfortable sharing so much information with a stranger who could be - who knows how old on the other-”

“I’m 13. I’m 13 years old. You know that already, we talked about -”

Dream didn’t let him get a word in for more than a moment, “You could be lying! Its- Its like, either option, whatever you are, it sucks. If you’re real, you could be some weirdo creep halfway across the country trying to- trying to stranger danger me or something or-” Nick leaned into his hand on the bench, and Dream took that to mean he was getting closer, and stepped off of the bench. The birds were not there. They had not flown away, but they were no longer visible to him, and he realized he had contracted some type of tunnel vision. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dream, who continued still. “Or you’re not real, you’re just some dumb, like, imaginary friend that I’m getting attached to. And both suck! Both options are awful!”

“But,” It was pathetic how small his voice sounded. Dream towered over him, in energy, when he stood while Nick remained seated, “but I haven’t lied about anything.”

“I’m not going to get attached to you just to get hurt later on.”

“Wh- did something happen? Why are you so… angry?”

The other seemed to falter for a moment, before pursing his lips and standing up straighter. “That’s the end of this conversation, Nick.”

Leaving had never been that easy though, they both knew that. They were in a dream together; one of them would have to wake up and leave the other, or Dream would have to run off into the fog. Either way, they would reboot the next night in the same spot as was the norm.

They would talk about this sudden paranoia and about what was causing it, eventually. Nick could stay quiet for a bit to let him cool down, or he could whine until Dream grew annoyed enough to push him gently in the way he always did. He would break a smile out of him, even if it were accompanied by an eyeroll. It was okay. It would be okay. Dream’s eyes were ice on him, but at least they were fixed on him still.

But then Dream turned to face away from him. “Goodbye, Nick” he said. And in a consecutive sequence of events, he noticed his surroundings break away from him. It was unlike when he usually woke up, when he would simply be there and then not. He saw the swings break into dust, and the slide crumble. He was standing too now, as the bench was nowhere in sight. His feet had no ground to stand on, and the fog that was so insistent on casting the remnants of a dreamy filter engulfed him. And then then there was nothing.

Nick woke up, groggy but mostly confused. His eyes were still shut with sleep, but when he pried them open, he was able to make out the bleary numbers projected in his digital alarm clock. 3:00 AM, it read, and he immediately shut his eyes again.

He vaguely remembered the events that had just occurred, passing them off as just another strange fluke. Unusual things happened within the unconscious mind, he and Dream had both come to understand that. This was just one of those things. With a yawn, he snuggled back into his blankets and let himself fall.

For the first time in 9 months, when Nick fell asleep, he did not dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever write a scene that's so. weird ?? that was the whole pigeon scene for me idk lol we'll see how i feel about that in a few days.
> 
> I really hope you liked this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to write :,,) but hopefully it was a little bit worth the wait. if you are reading this far i love you and appreciate you so deeply.


End file.
